


you wouldn’t want an angel watching over you

by zozo



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: AOS!Michael Burnham, AOS!Sylvia Tilly, F/F, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zozo/pseuds/zozo
Summary: She is not a secret in this universe.Spoilers for the end of Discovery Season 2.





	1. First Contact

#### Stardate 2259.81

`[Encryption confirmed. Recording begins.]`

Personal log: Ambassador Spock.

I recently began subscribing to a number of scientific journals. My intent was to monitor the technological divergence of this timeline from the one in which I was born. I also hoped to educate myself on which developments are considered current, so as to minimize my own anachronisms that might influence this timeline’s future.

The future. `[Dead air in recording: 9.1 seconds.]`

Neither technological analysis nor concern for the timeline required me to subscribe to the _Manchester Journal of Xenoanthropology_ , and yet I did. The latest issue arrived today, and has made it clear that my motivations for following this field were… more complex, perhaps, than I wanted to admit to myself.

Today I read the name “Michael Burnham” for the first time in over 100 subjective years.

`[Dead air: 15.7 seconds. Recording paused. Encryption confirmed. Recording resumed 4.2 minutes later.]`

She is not a secret in this universe. Nor, indeed, is she my sister: both Gabrielle Burnham and Michael Burnham Sr. still live, and Michael herself was never fostered by our parents. I am… grateful that she was spared that trauma in her youth, and proud to see she has become a respected—and widely published—civilian xenoanthropologist.

Her absence from my counterpart’s life explains much, and learning of it deepens my understanding of him. To have lacked that balance, that guiding light on my path… I see now that the struggle within him is different from my own, that the path he walks is only parallel to mine.

`[Recording ends. Encryption confirmed.]`

* * *

#### Stardate 2259.86

Michael is proud of her latest article in _Manchester_. She’s been invited to present it at the next Federation Xenoanthropology Conference on Andoria, and challenged to defend it at an academic symposium on Tellar Prime. She hasn’t been to a Tellarite debate since she was an undergrad, and frankly, she’s looking forward to the occasion to blow off a little steam.

As she wonders if it’s too early to start brushing up on her Tellarite rhetorical techniques, she hears her wife Sylvia shouting from another room. “Michael! There’s a comm for you! It’s on a _diplomatic channel!_ ”

“For _me?_ ” Sylvia is in the Federation diplomatic corps, and when their household receives encrypted communications like this, it’s always for her, never Michael. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely!”

Michael brings the comm up on the workstation in her office, and sure enough, she’s greeted with the elaborately filigreed logo of the UFP.

She opens the channel, buzzing with curiosity.

It’s… an elderly Vulcan man. But she recognizes him, from newsfeeds about New Vulcan. Holy shit.

“Ambassador Spock!” Michael exclaims. “What an honor to speak with you.”

“The honor is mine, Dr. Burnham,” says Spock, and Michael wants to faint. “Is this a convenient time for you to speak?”

“Y-yes, absolutely! What’s on your mind, Ambassador?” Michael can’t even imagine what one of the most respected Vulcans left alive would be calling _her_ about.

“I wanted to… congratulate you on your recent article.” There’s more emotion in his voice than any other Vulcan she’s spoken to, but he’s also the oldest Vulcan she’s ever spoken to, in the second half of his second century. Perhaps his relationship to the teachings of Surak has grown in nuance over the years.

Vulcan or not, she’s surprised anyone would get choked up about “Principles of First Contact: Beyond the Prime Directive.” She smiles at him, and he actually smiles back. This man is fascinating. “I appreciate that very much, Ambassador.”

“If I may share something rather personal with you, Dr. Burnham.”

This has got to be the weirdest day of Michael’s life. She’s not really sure how to respond, so she just says, “You may.”

“Your article reminded me a great deal of my late husband,” he begins, and Michael thinks she might understand why he sounds so emotional. “He and I had… many conversations about the Prime Directive.” Spock chuckles fondly, another Vulcan first as far as Michael is concerned. “Perhaps ‘arguments’ would be more precise. Nevertheless, I am confident he would have read your article with rapt interest, and enjoyed it immensely.”

Michael has a hand over her heart. “Ambassador,” she says. “Thank you for that. It means more to me than I can say.”

Spock inclines his head in acknowledgement.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Michael continues softly. “Was he lost with Vulcan?”

“No,” says Spock simply. “He was human. It was… long ago.”

“I understand,” she says. “Still, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I appreciate your time, Dr. Burnham. I do not wish to keep you from anything.” But she waves her hand at him through the screen.

“First of all, Dr. Burnham is my mother. Please, call me Michael. And second, not to repeat myself, but it would be an honor to hear more of your thoughts on my article, if you wanted to discuss it further.”

Spock smiles again, and her day gets a little weirder. “Perhaps you, your wife, and I could dine together when I am on Earth next month, and discuss it then.”

Michael can’t help but return this odd Vulcan’s smile. “That would be wonderful. I know Sylvia would love to meet you.”

There’s a spark of recognition in his eyes. “You’re married to Sylvia Tilly,” he says, that strange smile still on his face. He must know her already through the diplomatic corps. “That is… a blessing indeed. Congratulations, Michael.”

The sincerity of this man is a little overwhelming. Despite his age, there’s something almost childlike about the way he looks at her. It’s endearing, Michael decides as they say goodbye. _My first fan._


	2. Dinner

#### Stardate 2259.87 • New Vulcan

`[Encryption confirmed. Recording begins.]`

Personal log: Ambassador Spock.

I spoke with Michael. The Michael of this universe. Her article on the Prime Directive was an effective icebreaker, as I expected it would be, and required no pretense on my part. This version of her, like this universe’s version of Jim, of Nyota, of myself, is… so young.

After we spoke, I conducted some informal research. The outpost on Doctari Alpha was closed in the 2240s due to concerns about increased Klingon activity in the sector. Gabrielle and Michael Sr. appear to have left Section 31 around that time as well, for reasons on which I can only speculate. However, it is logical to assume that the emotions which caused them to leave Starfleet made an impression on Michael Jr., influencing her away from enlisting as she did in our home universe.

Nor is “Ensign” Tilly a member of Starfleet in this timeline. She serves as an attaché in the diplomatic corps, and she is married to Michael. I saw very little of their relationship aboard the _Discovery_ , but when I spoke to Michael of Tilly, and to Tilly of Michael, I remember their mutual admiration and affection was clear. I hope… `[Dead air in recording: 6.8 seconds. Subject clears throat.]`

It is illogical to feel even further from my own version of Michael in this universe. I could no more cross the gulf of centuries between us than return to my origin—and yet, I seem to have taken some comfort from the fact that we still shared a timeline. I no longer feel that comfort, and the absence… it is not unlike losing her again.

`[Dead air: 3.2 seconds. Recording ends. Encryption confirmed.]`

* * *

#### Stardate 2259.94 • Saclay, Earth

“Ambassador Spock,” Tilly says for the twentieth or thirtieth time as they walk to the transporter. “Wow.” Her hair is braided into a tight bun on top of her head, with a few wispy ringlets escaping, and she’s wearing a dark blue dress from Betazed.

Michael, dashing in a slim charcoal suit, laughs kindly at her wife. “He seems like a very sweet man, you know. Not intimidating at all. I think you and he will hit it off.”

“‘Hit it off,’” Tilly repeats, “with a 160-year-old Vulcan? That’s like, six times my age, Michael. I’m not being ageist, I just don’t get it.”

Michael smiles serenely. “You’ll see.”

The restaurant is just on the other side of Paris. It would be about as fast to take a shuttle, but it’s a gorgeous night and Tilly had insisted they get some fresh air before dinner, so they’re walking to and from the public transporter station instead.

They arrive at the transporters “appropriately freshened,” according to Tilly. Michael squeezes her wife’s hand, the way she does every time they beam anywhere together, and winks at her as they dissolve.

Spock had suggested the restaurant, and the Tilly–Burnhams are immediately impressed. It’s chic, but not pretentious, featuring a vegan menu from all over the Federation and a beer list you could spend your entire meal reading. Spock arrives just as they do, in a simple but elegant grey robe with gold stitching. He raises his hand, middle two fingers parted.

“Michael Burnham,” he says solemnly. “Sylvia Tilly. Live long and prosper.”

Michael beams at him. “Peace and long life, Ambassador.”

Tilly is standing up very, very straight. “Ambassador. It’s such an honor.”

Spock graces them with his unusually warm smile. “The honor is entirely mine, Ms. Tilly. And you may both call me Spock.”

Michael nods like a schoolgirl, and Tilly blushes to the roots of her hair. “Well then!” she says, voice half an octave higher than usual, “I’m Tilly. Shall we?” Spock gestures for them to precede him into the building.

* * *

Spock continues to surprise Michael: he orders a beer (a half-pint, but still), he tells jokes, and when Tilly gets to the end of a shaggy-dog story about the Kzinti ambassador, he actually laughs.

Their conversation continues over dinner. The salad Spock orders arrives as a riot of broad cyan and magenta leaves with dark blue shoots that’s almost too pretty to eat. Michael’s Tellarite root-vegetable soup tastes better than it looks—though both Tilly and Spock are dubious until they try a taste—and Tilly is extremely satisfied with her portobello mushroom burger.

As the meal winds down, Spock asks, with a twinkle in his eye, how they met.

“Oh boy,” Michael says at the same time Tilly says, “Her mom!” Spock cocks his head.

“I double-majored in Theoretical Engineering and Interplanetary Relations,” Tilly says, “though it took an awful lot of convincing to get _my_ mother on board with that. Gabrielle—Dr. Burnham—Michael’s mom had an unpublished paper I wanted to cite, so I wrote to her, and we started writing back and forth, and eventually she mentioned she had a daughter about my age…” She looks over at Michael and smiles. “And the rest is history.”

Michael smiles back at her wife. “Spock,” she starts tentatively, “may I ask how you met your husband?”

Tilly whips her head quickly between Michael and Spock. _Oops,_ Michael thinks. _Forgot to tell her about that._

Spock takes a deep breath. “His name was Jim. We served on… a ship together. He was my captain. We, ah, danced around each other for many years. I was young then, and foolish, but I saw something in him, something I knew I wanted to reach for. Actualizing it was another matter.”

Michael reaches across the table and touches his hand. He grasps hers almost immediately, almost automatically. “But you got there,” she says.

“Indeed,” says Spock. "Nor do I regret the journey.

“He died,” Spock continues, to their unasked question, “saving a ship full of hundreds of people from a gravitational anomaly. I was not there. We were… separate.”

Michael squeezes his hand.

“He was a hero,” Tilly says, voice choked with emotion. “You were married to a hero. That’s awesome.”

Spock smiles at her, eyes shining. “‘Awesome’ is the very word for it.”

Michael raises her beer. “To Jim.”

Tilly raises hers. “To Jim.”

Spock touches their glasses with his. “To Jim,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["Mistaken for Strangers"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgRsYkKb1eI) by The National.
> 
> Share your AOS!Discovery headcanons with me on Tumblr at [discotreque](https://discotreque.tumblr.com).


End file.
